creature that would take the apple out of my hand, as I held it
over my left shoulder.' The excited girl gave a loud scream of terror
at the image her fancy had conjured up. Faith and Lois sprang out
towards her, flying across the moonlit room in their white nightgowns.
At the same instant, summoned by the same cry, Grace Hickson came to
her child.

'Hush! hush!' said Faith, authoritatively.

'What is it, my wench?' asked Grace. While Lois, feeling as if she had
done all the mischief, kept silence.

'Take her away, take her away!' screamed Prudence. 'Look over her
shoulder--her left shoulder--the Evil One is there now, I see him
stretching over for the half-bitten apple.'

'What is this she says?' said Grace, austerely.

'She is dreaming,' said Faith; 'Prudence, hold thy tongue.' And she
pinched the child severely, while Lois more tenderly tried to soothe
the alarms she felt that she had conjured up.

'Be quiet, Prudence,' said she, 'and go to sleep. I will stay by thee
till thou hast gone off into slumber.'

'No, go! go away,' sobbed Prudence, who was really terrified at first,
but was now assuming more alarm: than she felt, if from the pleasure
she received at perceiving herself the centre of attention. 'Faith
shall stay by me, not you, wicked English witch!'

So Faith sat by her sister; and Grace, displeased and perplexed,
withdrew to her own bed, purposing to inquire more into the matter in
the morning. Lois only hoped it might all be forgotten by that time,
and resolved never to talk again of such things. But an event happened
in the remaining hours of the night to change the current of affairs.
While Grace had been absent from her room, her husband had had another
paralytic stroke: whether he, too, had been alarmed by that eldritch
scream no one could ever know. By the faint light of the rush candle
burning at the bedside, his wife perceived that a great change had
taken place in his aspect on her return: the irregular breathing came
almost like snorts--the end was drawing near. The family were roused,
and all help given that either the doctor or experience could suggest.
But before the late November morning light, all was ended for Ralph
Hickson.

The whole of the ensuing day, they sat or moved in darkened rooms, and
spoke few words, and those below their breath. Manasseh kept at home,
regretting his father, no doubt, but showing little emotion. Faith was
the child that bewailed her loss most grievous